Chapter 26 Aiden
AIDEN
A lot of people wonder how killers find their victims. Most attribute it to stalking, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or being targeted randomly.
Sarah’s downfall was engaging in small talk.
I connected the dots, from Katie’s discomfort to being around her to the information Ciara shared.
I made several trips to the smoking area throughout the night to “take a phone call.” It was just a coincidence that Sarah happened to be out there every time. I appealed to her ego and laid on the charm, soon, she told me exactly what I wanted to know.
I asked if she still lived in Tallaght, and she told me which part.
I had to narrow it down, so I casually asked what side of Killinarden Park her house is on, then made a show of dropping a name or two of people I knew in that area.
one estate is easier to watch than several.
I knew the road she was on since she said she was directly facing the top of the park. It was all downhill from there.
Of course, I didn’t seek her out for a good fortnight after the fact, or my bug would get suspicious that I was up to no good.
Katie knows I kill predators. I sense she wouldn’t react well to me getting rid of her old friend, even though she’s just as much of a predator as any man.
She orchestrated a situation where my girl was sexually assaulted, and she needs to face the consequences.
I just had to figure out how to do it without breaking my moral code—don’t hurt a woman.
I had settled on injecting her and calling it a day, but then a brilliant idea hit me. Now here I am, with Sarah blubbering at her kitchen table and staring at the gun in my hand.
“Please, my kids need me.”
“Three children with three different fathers, classy.”
Pulling back the slide, I settle into the chair. “Speaking of… your eldest daughter, who is her father? I should like a word with him.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Right now, this feels more like a punishment for me than for her. There is dog shit scattered all over the floor, mountains of dirty washing, and the counters are filthy. Mother of the fucking year right here. I’ll need to bathe in Dettol after this.
“Calm down, Sarah.” I force a grin, pointing the gun at the bottles of water on the table.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to make sure you understand the consequences of your actions.
You see, you helped get my girl so drunk that not only did you and your then fiancé take full advantage of her, but she could have choked on her own vomit in her sleep after the fact. ”
“The three-way?” Sarah blurts out and has the gall to look confused. “Katie wanted it. She never said no, either time.”
Excuse me? It happened more than once.
Right then, I see where this is going. She doesn’t see anything wrong with what she’s done.
“Did you know that your ex-fiancé tampered with her drinks, yes or no?”
“Carl didn’t drug the drinks; he just added in shots for the laugh. But she was already wasted by then, so it didn’t really matter.” Sarah’s nonchalant attitude towards the situation is disturbing.
I lean forward, my forearms resting on my knees. “So, he tampered with her drinks multiple times.”
“She didn’t say no.”
“She couldn’t say no!” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This is not a joke; this is serious. “He took advantage of her while she was intoxicated, and not only did he rape my girlfriend, but you also joined in on the assault.”
Getting to my feet, I toss a two litre bottle of water at her. “Drink.”
“What?”
I aim the gun right between her eyes. “Drink.”
She hesitantly takes a sip, her eyes wide. “More.” I can see the fear in her eyes as she complies, drinking more water as I keep the gun pointed between her eyes. “More.”
“I can’t—”
Pressing the cold metal of the Glock against her forehead, I growl, “Drink or die.” She continues to drink, tears streaming down her face.
I wait until every last drop has been consumed before lowering the gun and stepping back, a cruel smile playing on my lips.
“How does it feel to be forced to drink against your will?”
“We didn’t hold a gun to her head!” Her pale blue gaze is fixed on me.
I chuckle, enjoying the fear and desperation in her eyes. “But I did, and you complied. That’s all that matters.”
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Tough shit.” Reaching for a litre bottle of water, I pass it to her and grin. “Drink.”
“I can’t—”
“You’re not leaving that seat until all eight litres are consumed. And trust me, you don’t want to know what happens if you don’t comply.”
It takes two and a half hours, some groans of discomfort, and a few tears, but she finally finishes all eight litres of water.
She’s confused, disoriented, and struggling to stand up. “What did you do to me?” she slurs.
“The same thing you did to Katie—forced her to drink against her will—but here’s the kicker.
As I kneel beside her, I observe her swaying in the chair.
“It’s common knowledge about the risks of excessive alcohol consumption.
Did you know that consuming six litres of water within three hours can lead to water intoxication, which can be fatal? ”
Attempting to rise from the chair, she tumbles forward and lands face-first into a pile of dog shit.
“Yeah, I failed to mention that the last bottle had two sleepers in it.” I bag up every bottle and step over her semi-conscious body.
“I figured eight litres would be enough to do the job. I’ll admit, I’m unsure of how long it takes to actually die from water intoxication, hence the sleepers.
” Tossing the bag over my shoulders, I grin down at her.
“You can just drift off now, knowing that Carl is going to follow you soon. Only his death won’t be half as peaceful as yours. ”
* * *
The needle buzzes and scratches against my skin, Cillian’s brow is furrowed in concentration as he works on the tattoo. “This does not even begin to match your other ones,” he says, wiping away excess ink.
“I’m comfortable enough with my masculinity to have something cute like this,” I reply, watching the design take shape.
He thought I was joking at first. I get it; I do.
The rest of my tattoos are Celtic knots, snakes, and skulls, so when I asked him to create a snuggle bug design, he was taken aback.
I asked what he thought of when he heard the term, and after taking a few moments to think about it, Cillian replied with a shrug, “something cute and squishy, I guess.” What he created is a tiny, smiling bug swaddled in a blanket, and now that design is being inked onto my skin.
“I’m assuming this is for Katie?” He asks with a chuckle, already knowing the answer. “I didn’t realise you had history.”
“We don’t have history.”
“So,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully, “you’re getting a tattoo for someone you’ve been seeing for what? Less than six months.”
I nod, smirking at the bug grinning from its blanket cocoon. “Sometimes you just know.”
He chuckles lowly. “You sound like you’re going to marry her.”
“I am.”
The needle stops, he looks at me in surprise. “Really? So soon?”
“Sooner if I had my way.” My smile widens when Katie walks in, her eyes widening at the sight of the tattoo.
“What the hell is that?” She laughs, her hand covering her mouth as she approaches.
“It’s a bug; what’s it look like?”
“When you said you wanted something to remind you of me, I didn’t think you meant a literal bug,” she snorts, shaking her head. “You know tattoos are permanent, right?”
“You know what else is permanent?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Clearly not your hard on,” she quips.
Cillian pulls away, chuckling. “Thanks for that.”
“I think we should let Cillian stick my name on this finger of yours.” I fold down every finger on her hand except the ring finger.
She blushes to her roots. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because I don’t know what kind of ring you want yet.” I hold her gaze for as long as she’ll allow me before she looks away with a shy smile. “Big, small, gold, silver, diamond, sapphire—whatever you want, bug, it’s yours.”
Her throat works as she swallows, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You said you don’t want to get married again.”
“I didn’t.” Lacing our fingers together, she finally meets my gaze again. “Then I met you.”
“Mind if I use your bathroom?” Cillian asks, I’m thinking it’s more to give us a moment than to actually relieve himself.
“The door is to the left of the stairs.” I point in the direction, watching as he heads off before turning back to Katie. “We can do the marriage thing, or we can just keep doing what we’re doing. As long as we’re together, that’s all that matters.”
Katie smiles through her tears, squeezing my hand in response. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I smirk against her lips. “I’ll also love seeing you in those gym leggings later.” Katie has her first self-defence lesson with Craig this evening, I know she’s nervous about it.
Walsh is still tearing his hair out over the failed hit; it’s only a matter of time before he makes another attempt, and the snivelling little shit has gone into hiding.
I can’t seem to track him down yet. I’m not stupid enough to think that I can keep Katie from the crossfire no matter my intentions; she knows how to use a gun; we’ve been practising every day; and I’ve even got a custom rose gold Glock for her.
She’ll get that later tonight, after her lesson.
I’ve shown her where to aim with a knife: the kidneys, throat, temple, and easier targets like the left upper thigh and groin.
She’s learning how to get out of cable ties and handcuffs and how to pick locks.
I’m doing everything I can to prepare her to get out of any dangerous situation she may find herself in.
We practised kicking the rear lights out of a locked boot and hot wiring a car—I was surprised she didn’t know that one given where she grew up.
“Craig’s not going to mount me like you do, is he?” she teases.
“No.” I brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s madly in love with his wife, and if he wasn’t, and tried anything. I’d fucking kill him.”
She snakes her arms around my neck, tugging me closer. “Because I’m your girl?”
I nod, smiling. “Because you’re my girl,” I confirm, leaning in to kiss her softly. “And I always protect what’s mine.”